Ah, this place or this
moment, or maybe
this self I've become-
who is always in love
and miserable...
Lonely, ecstatic, tired, so tired-
wired into that suicidal survival trip,
restless, relentless, unrepentant,
and sad, always sad...
Not about Fate, or the world,
or all the lovers who were more
than lovers, the friends
who were less than friends,
all those who wouldn't or couldn't
live up to my expectations.
(I can't even live up to my expectations)
...but sad! sad! because life is beautiful,
yes, but also horrible and tragic and stupid-
and it's a fucking mystery what the whole
goddamn point of it is-
Or if there is one,
or if, by asking the question,
you create the meaning,
or the lack there of...
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